Dear Reader
This story, like many of my other stories, has elements that are based on real personal experiences.
However, the names and places are all fictitious.
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Simon
Lights, Camera Rolling
By Simon Peter
"Me? In a porn movie? Are you out of your fucking mind?" I realize that I am actually shouting, and I look around nervously hoping that no one has heard me.
"Shhh," my friend, Roland shushes me. "What's the matter with you? Shouting this out so loudly? I was just mentioning it because I know how financially tight you are. Forget I said this, ok?"
"Ok," I respond in a low voice, a bit embarrassed by my outburst.
Well, Roland is right in that I need some more income to be able to meet my increasing tuition. Also, my sexual appetite has made me spend more on not only one partner, but many! I am bisexual and I have relations with both female and male partners, which has definitely put a heavy strain on my budget.
I also like to buy nice clothes, colognes, and stuff like that. I need to maintain my car, which is increasingly in need of maintenance. I couldn't move to a smaller apartment since my place is just a small one-room studio. Yes, my finances look fairly bleak.
So, what are my options, really? Surrender my purchases: to what? Cheap perfumes and deodorants are not going to make that much of a difference. Go to my parents: really, I am 24 years old in grad school. How can I expect to ask money from Mom and Dad? Not an option. Get a bank loan: and then what? I will have to pay it back. It will not really help. Get rid of the car: feasible. I can use the bus or the underground. Hmmm. Get a better-paying job: not while I am working for my MBA. I am doing the best I can.
But pornography? Oh, man!
The other day I wanted to treat my girlfriend to a nice sea-food dinner, but all I had was a measly 50 dollars and my car needed gas. My treat turned out to be Burger King. I must do something about it.
Hmmm. Pornography... I watch porn movies every now and then. I do not like the ones that go to extremes or that just put on a "fuck-suck show." I like the ones that have some kind of a story line, no matter how shallow, and that includes kissing and touching and stuff. I like it when the guys in those movies do not look like freaks, with monster cocks or impossibly inflated muscles. What turns me on is to watch normal, healthy people having normal, healthy sex, gay sex.
But how much money can I make out of a porn movie? What! I have already accepted Roland's proposition, looks like. What the fuck? I can ask, can't I? Just want to know. This doesn't mean that I will go on camera right away, brandishing my dick around. Just to know. Simple!
"Hi, Roland, this is me, Eddie," I finally call my friend.
"Hey, Ed," there is some reserve in Roland's voice. Shit! Is he mad at me? We used to be sex partners but we broke up a few weeks ago. We are still friends, though. Neither of us has considered our relationship as exclusive or long term. We have enjoyed each other and our sex has been great. I want to keep him as a friend.
"Man, I'm sorry for my stupid outburst this afternoon," I apologize. "It's just that I was not prepared for anything like what you were proposing."
"That's ok, buddy," he mellows, just a little. I know him too well. He will hold this against me for the rest of my life, I bet. "Just forget it."
"Oh, no, Roland. I was thinking. Just thinking, you know. I realize that what you said came out of your concern for me and I love you dearly for that. Can I ask you a few questions now that I have had some time to reflect?"
There are a few seconds of silence on the line. Hmmm. "Sure, shoot," Roland finally says.
"Have you done it?"
"Yea." Just like that! Matter of fact! Straight admission of having sex on camera, of being in a porn flick.
No details. Ok, I need to be more positive since I sense that Roland might think that I am judging him.
"Listen, buddy," I say in an appeasing tone. "Let's say that my initial shock has worn off, and upon reflection, I have come to think that there is a possibility. My fear is recognition. Friends? Family? You know."
"Well, to tell you the truth, I doubt it very much that my Presbyterian Mom and Dad are into porn, let alone gay porn. Besides we don't even live in the same town. For me, this is an adult decision, a way to make money. It has nothing to do with decency. It's not like I am a pervert or anything. It's just a job."
I can see his rationale. And he does make sense. Do prostitutes make similar arguments? Hmmm.
"Ok, you are making sense," I agree, a bit reluctantly. "There is nothing shameful about this if the movies show healthy sex." I realize that I am trying to convince myself instead of convincing Roland.
"Good," he says, and I think I can feel him going back to normal with me. His voice is more relaxed.
"How well does it pay?" I ask. "I mean since it's a job and all?"
"Depends, bro," he answers. "When I started, I was in a secondary role. I appeared in a couple of short scenes. I got paid $4000."
"Phew," I let out a breath. "So, how much will it be like if you star in one?"
"Eddie," he says. "First, you have a big dick. That shoots up the dollar figure. Second, you can cum and stay hard and cum and stay hard. Ask me. I know. You used to fuck me for hours. Your stamina is amazing. This also shoots up the money even higher. It saves a lot on waiting for erections, especially when you are in a 'top' role, which I know you will want to be. Third, you have a slender body and a hot face. Although this last is not a basic requirement, it helps."
I am nodding my head as I listen to him. Roland has always been the brains and the analyzer, as well as a hot fuck.
"Finally, you can do both pussy and ass. That will probably hike up the money the most."
I know that Roland prefers to bottom.
"So," I prod. "What figure am I looking at?"
"Hey, baby," he says a little apologetically. "I'm not a producer. Tell you what: why don't I introduce you to someone and then we'll take it from there? Let me make a phone call first."
"Ok, man," I am breathing hard, and my heart is beating with both excitement and consternation. I make some coffee, light a cigarette, and stare at the phone for the salvation call. What I have discounted as a crazy idea a short time ago has now become a serious expectation.
Ten long minutes later, on my third cigarette, Roland rings. "Guess what? I just found out that my people are looking for someone to star in a flick and it seems that you have the qualifications. They want to see you. Tomorrow. Looks like a $10,000 gig at least!"
"What?" I can barely hide my excitement. "Ten thousand fucking dollars for a skin flick?" Incredible!
My heart bounced, my thoughts flashed to all the problems that would be solved with this kind of money.
"Whoa," he says. "Don't go rushing to the bank yet, buddy. They have to screen you first and like you."
"What's there NOT to like," I say laughingly.
"Your dick, bitch," he teases. We agree to meet at 10 o'clock the next morning and go for the appointment together. I need the support.
The next morning, I have no idea what to wear. Showered and shaved, I check out my wardrobe-not that I really have one! I finally decide on blue jeans, polo shirt and Converse sneakers. They need a normal guy, so I need to look like one. For my editing job at the publishing house, I call in sick.
Roland and I walk into an office, lavishly furnished, with a hot receptionist dressed in the minimum of clothing possible short of showing her tits and crotch. Nice. She leads us to down a corridor to what looks like a studio, with a red bulb over the door. Her butt wiggles provocatively as she walks in front of us, and my dick quivers in response.
There are two people in the small shooting studio, a man and a woman, in their late thirties, I estimate.
After the introductions, I notice that they are marking things on their I-pads. After a while, the woman looks up and says, "So far, so good, Ed." She smiles at me. "Can we call you Ed?" she asks after the fact.
"Ed is fine ma'am," I answer nervously. "Eddie is also good." I am trying to please. I am totally convinced that his is what I should do and that is proper and acceptable. But I feel my knees go weak and my heart beats increase.
"Great, Eddie," she is still smiling. "I am Leslie and this is my colleague, Henry. Roland speaks very highly of you. Now, could you strip for us?"
I glance at Roland and he just smiles back at me, the little fuck. No help there. Of course, they need to see me naked. This is part of the screening. As I start to strip, I wonder what else they will have me do before they decide whether I get the job or not. I take off my shirt, exposing my flat stomach and the patch of hair in the middle of my chest, with the trail line going south to my navel and disappearing into my jeans waist band. The man and woman take down more notes as they study me. Fuck! I feel like a specimen in a biology class, getting ready to be dissected!
"Right," Henry finally says. He doesn't show any sign of approval or disapproval and I start getting even more nervous. "Now the jeans?"
I unbutton and pull down my blue jeans and step out of them. Standing straight-now feeling as if I am inspected by a military tribunal or something, I fidget as they walk around me with their I-pads. I look down at myself and I think that I shouldn't have anything to worry about. In my tight boxers, I look fine. My bulge also looks fine. Roland is still smiling, the bitch! He has always loved stripping me and rubbing his face against my underwear, making me erect.
"Ahem," Leslie clears her throat and asks me to lose the boxers. I pull them down and step out of them. My cock is already semi-erect. Even flaccid, it is impressive, but now I discern a whispering inhalation of breath from the woman as she stares at my equipment.
I stand stark naked in front of them, feeling extremely exposed and self-conscious. It's not that I am embarrassed by my body or manhood-I'm rather proud of both. But the specimen feeling is growing stronger: I feel as if I was being scrutinized for some kind of a scientific experiment or something. This keeps my dick somewhat under control, with its elongated semi-erected status. Henry and Leslie examine my body and walk around me again to check my back and butt, making more markings on their stupid I-pads.
"Please, Eddie, take a seat," Henry finally says. "No need for clothes unless you feel uncomfortable staying in the nude."
"Oh, that's fine," I am still nervous but thankful to be sitting down.
They start asking questions about my height (180 centimeters), weight (62 kilograms), eyes (green), hairiness (chest patch, underarms, trail, pubes, ass crack, legs-they can see that already, for Chrissakes!), dick size (6 centimeters soft, 20 centimeters erect), dick shape (cut, vertical erection, mushroom head), butt (bubble, fuzzy, firm). Then they move to questions about my sexual preferences (bisexual, versatile but mainly top, not into anything kinky), medical history (HIV negative, STD free, healthy), likes and dislikes (younger partners, vanilla sex), and stuff like that. All the while Roland is just sitting back and watching. Will I be ready to shave my body hair (only if necessary)? Will I grow a beard (sure, sometimes I do)? And so on.
Around half an hour later, Henry and Leslie leave the studio. "We will back in a short while," Leslie says.
"Relax."
When they leave, I look at Roland. The bastard isn't saying anything. "Well?" I ask, leaning back in the chair and stretching my legs, giving Roland a full of view of my frontal parts. There were times when he would be squatting between my thighs gobbling on my dick!
"Baby, it looks like they love you already! Besides, you look so fucking sexy, naked like this," he says, biting his lower lip, which has become a habit of his when I once told him that it made him look sexy just before I fucked him.
It feels like ages before Henry and Leslie return. "Well, Eddie," Henry says as they enter the room.
"The first stage of the screening has given us very favorable results. Now we need to go to the next stage."
I nod my head, wondering what the "next stage" is going to be although I'm not that stupid not to figure out that they want to see me in action.
Leslie glances at Roland, then back at me. "We know how nervous you might be feeling right now, Eddie. You and Roland are more than friends, am I right to assume this?"
Roland and I look at each other, then back at Leslie, and we nod our heads.
"What Henry and I are suggesting," she resumes after seeming to confirm what she is considering, "that you and Roland could show us some action. On camera."
I really need to know about the money at this point, but I also realize that I can't bring this up now.
Roland strips. I feel my cock quiver as I see him naked. We have had some great times in bed together, and sweet memories flood back.
Suddenly, the door to the studio opens and two guys walk in. "The crew," Henry explains when he sees me jump. I relax and think, fuck, this is real. I try to control my breathing, waiting for the set to be organized.
The two guys play around with their stuff, cameras, lights and whatever. "You can start making out boys," Leslie finally says. "Just take your time and act natural."
Roland and I tentatively touch each other, move closer, start to kiss, standing up, my arms around his familiar waist. He fondles me and I erect. The crew guys adjust their equipment and start to shoot.
After a short while, we are told to stop, and Henry and Leslie study the photographed takes and jot down more notes. Then, with me still erect, they tell us to start the sex.
Roland kneels and takes me in his mouth. He has tasted my cock before, but he goes at me hungrily anyway. A few moments later, we are told to switch roles. I kneel and wrap his still-soft, shaved pencil dick between my lips. I play with his balls and finger his crack and he erects inside my mouth. I swallow him to the base-he has a smallish dick, around 15 centimeters long. Again, we are instructed to stop.
Again, we wait as they study the footage and take notes. Actually, I hate interruptions to my sexual act. When I start, I want to keep going till the finish. But... this is show biz!
Now, it's time for the real action. Roland lies on a small couch on his back. I kneel between his legs and work his hole with my finger using lube provided to us by one of the crew guys, who also hands me a condom. I roll the condom on my cock, spread Roland's legs wider, apply lube on my cockhead and around the shaft as well as on Roland's hole, hold him by the ankles and penetrate his ass. Arching my back, aware of the cameras closing in, I pump into him. Suddenly, I feel someone grabbing my arm.
This startles me and I pull out of Roland's ass, my dick popping up to plaster to my belly, glistening from the lube.
"Make sure the camera can see you, Eddie," Leslie instructs me as she sees the look of frustrated surprise on my face. The crew guy who has pulled me off Roland smiles apologetically.
"We have footage of the fucking," he says as he moves away.
"Right," Henry says. "Now shoot a load, Eddie."
Just like that? Oh, well. In porn, you are a sex machine. You are supposed to follow instructions: kiss, fuck, lift a leg, ripple an ass cheek, shoot a load! I remove the condom, squat astride Roland's upper chest, stroke myself at his face, and in no time shower his body with my juice, squirting five or six big ones. He takes my dripping cock into his mouth again with the cameras virtually touching my cock and he cleans me off with his tongue and lips.
"That's all," Leslie says as she turns towards the camera to examine the footage. I quickly dress and so does Roland, wiping cum off his face, reminding me how cute he is. I feel a pang of regret for breaking with him, but he has refused to accept the fact that I need to fuck pussy once in a while. He wouldn't share me, not even with a woman, perhaps especially with a woman.
"That's why you agreed to come with me," I whisper to Roland as the others are busy with their notes.
"You wanted another go at my dick, huh?"
He pinches my butt playfully. "You bet!" he whispers back. "I can never get enough of you, Eddie."
When they are done, Henry and Leslie confer for a few minutes in whispers. Henry pulls out a document and places it on the table. "Well," he says. "We think that you can join our team, Eddie."
I look over the contract. Scanning down, I notice there is a blank where it says "payment for session." I look up at Henry. He smiles and says, "You can fill this blank in, Eddie."
I hesitate. Fuck! I have no idea how much to ask for. Roland stands back. He has told me that this could be a $10,000 gig. What the fuck! I write in $15,000, fully knowing that I will definitely be laughed out of the place. But that's what the man has asked me to do. Fucking $15,000: a fortune!
Henry clears his throat as he sees the figure. "This is rather steep, Eddie, but we like you and really want you with us. We think you will be an asset." He glances at my body down to my crotch meaningfully. "Tell you what," he continues after he exchanges glances with Leslie. I wait, heart beating fast. "We can live with that figure, only if we stipulate that it would be paid for a whole 90- minute movie, instead of a session. As you know, sometimes we need to have more than one session to shoot the whole thing."
"I understand," I reply, barely able to contain my excitement, trying my best to sound cool and collected against the pounding in my heart. Fuck me! This is a fucking lot of cash! For one flick! I am being paid a lot of money to fuck! Oh, yea!
I nod my head in agreement, but a thought strikes me and I say, "This will be applied to the first movie, right? We will negotiate for other future movies, if there will be any, won't we?"
Henry and Leslie glance at each other again, while Roland fidgets next to me, then Henry says, "Yes, Eddie. And I think that there will be future movies. I liked the money shot."
"Huh?" What is he talking about? What the fuck is the money shot?
The five of them, Henry, Leslie, the crew guys, and Roland laugh. I smile, stupidly is my guess.
"That's when you shot your load on Roland's face," Henry explains. "We call it the money shot because it is what keeps whoever buys the DVD glued to the screen waiting for it. If it is lousy and just dripping, people will not buy future DVDs with you in them. But the way you squirt will surely bring in money!"
Heaven is too small a place to contain me as Roland and I walk out of the studio with the contract signed and folded into my back pocket. Our first session will start tomorrow. They will email me the script tonight-although they explain that there won't be too much to memorize. The story line is in the action, and for that I don't need any memorization.
Wrapping my arm around Roland's shoulder, I say jubilantly, "Baby, we're going for a late lunch, on me, then back to my place so I can really, slowly, deeply, lovingly, roughly punish-fuck you until you're bursting with my juices, until you can't walk straight, until your ass is so sore that you can't even take a dump without screaming in pain."
Roland snickers and we head for lunch.